


Perception is Nine Tenths of the Law

by berlynn_wohl



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Anal Sex, Failboats In Love, Jealousy, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Your argument is flawed on a number of levels,” Hermann said. “First of all, the dangers inherent in approaching terminal nuclear storage are objective and inarguable, whereas the status of…of ‘sex bomb’ is entirely in the eye of the beholder."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perception is Nine Tenths of the Law

 

**1.**

 

Having been stopped by the Marshall for a brief conversation on his way down the corridor, Hermann returned to the lab a few minutes later than he’d expected to. He went straight to the narrow bench where he kept his electric kettle. But to his surprise, it had not boiled. The switch was in the “On” position, but the light was not illuminated. Hermann grasped the cord where it joined the kettle, then followed it to the power outlet. It had been unplugged. In its place was another plug, which he followed with his eyes. It stretched across the floor, a thirty-foot extension cord. At the other end was a power strip, into which was plugged another extension cord. The whole works led past Hermann’s chalkboard to Newt’s work-table, barely; the cords were suspended several inches above the floor in places, where they stretched between their respective origins and destinations. It was all to allow Newt to plug in an ordinary household blender, which was perched precariously on the edge of the table. Hermann was entirely uninterested in learning the present purpose of the appliance as it related to Newt’s work. 

“This is a safety violation,” he said, indicating the stretched power cords with his cane. “Unplug this mess and plug that blender in to an outlet closer to your own workstation.” 

“I can’t unplug any of the things I’ve already got going on over here,” Newt said. Hermann looked at the electrical sockets on Newt’s side of the lab. Every single one was overfull of adapters and power strips. 

“That is also a safety violation,” Hermann said. “I’m going to have you written up.” 

Newt’s expression clearly indicated that he had not taken any of Hermann’s threats seriously for a very long time. “I’m going to have you written up, _myeh myeh myeh_ ,” he muttered mockingly. “Dude, it’s fine. I’ll unplug it as soon as I’m done. It’s not a hazard.” 

Three minutes later, Newt tripped over it. 

The extension cord was yanked from the socket, and the blender toppled, spilling its purple contents across to Hermann’s side of the floor. Newt nearly face-planted on the metal floor, but Hermann was standing there, filling in the last empty corner of his chalkboard with calculations, and dropped his chalk and cane in order to catch Newt with both arms. 

Newt righted himself almost immediately, but Hermann held on to him a moment longer than was strictly necessary. Newt found himself looking directly at Hermann’s mouth, which hung open just slightly with the shock of it all. 

Newt blurted out, “Has anyone ever told you that you have a sensuous mouth?” 

Hermann snorted. Those last two words made him reflexively grip Newt’s arms, but then, realizing what he’d just done, he immediately loosened his grip. Then it occurred to him that the sudden loosening of his grip might indicate that he was well aware of the implications of having tightened his grip in the first place. Finding himself in a spiral of embarrassment, he finally just patted Newt’s shoulders patronizingly, and sputtered, “Hmph. Sensuous mouth. What does that even mean?” 

“It means, uh, that your mouth is sort of unusual-looking, but in a way that when people look at it, they can’t help but imagine what it would be like if you went down on them.” 

“Is that so?” Hermann said incredulously. “Do…‘people’ really do that?” Now he was looking down at Newt’s mouth. Newt saw this, and let his lips part a fraction, in case a kiss was forthcoming, as it would have been in a film or television show. In this case, it wasn’t. Unable to deal with the situation he’d unexpectedly found himself in, Hermann dropped his arms and backed away. Newt remembered himself, and fell to his knees more dramatically than was necessary to pick up Hermann’s cane and hand it back to him. Hermann tugged at the lapels of his jacket, released a breath, and returned to his work, cursing Newt for having made him drop and break his last piece of chalk. “And clean up this sludge,” he said, waving at the toppled blender.

 

 

**2.**

 

A week later, Newt was locking some entrails up in one of the refrigeration units for the night, when he heard Hermann’s distinctive clattering gait behind him. He secured the handle and turned around. 

At first, Hermann looked directly at Newt and said nothing, though if fidgeting made noise he would have woken the dead. Finally he said, “That thing you were saying, about my…You’ll, er, you’ll have to show me. How to. Because I don’t know how to do it.” 

So Newt took Hermann to his room, and taught him by example. 

Afterward, he climbed up onto the bed and, with a hand on the back of Hermann’s neck, gently guided him into his lap to reciprocate. He watched those wide, soft lips wrap around the head of his cock, and it looked even better than he’d always imagined it. Hermann’s continued uncertainty about what he was doing was charming; he sucked as though he wasn’t sure that you were supposed to suck, and was waiting to be told differently. When the suction broke and he accidentally made a slurping sound, he got extremely embarrassed, pulling off and apologizing profusely. 

“No, it’s awesome,” Newt said. “It’s cool when it makes noises. Keep going.” He continued to watch; never before had he enjoyed observing it more than he enjoyed feeling it, but he was digging Hermann’s slow, deliberate technique, which allowed him to see every nuance of those lips, slick with spit, and the pink tongue behind them. “Yeah, like that,” Newt groaned. “ _Unh_ , it’s perfect. Just– No, don’t look at me. Don’t look right at me dude, it’s too weird. But keep, keep doing that…”

 

 

**3.**

 

A few seconds after Hermann clicked the “send” button in his email application, Newt’s computer chimed. Five minutes later, Hermann was already immersed in another project – his own report, _Changing Capacity of the Breach_ – when Newt groaned with frustration. “Dude, you took out everything I wrote about the Gage twins!” 

“Because it was irrelevant.” Hermann said flatly. 

Hermann had agreed to review Newt’s report, _The Seattle Attack and the Evolving Strategy of the Kaiju_ , before it was submitted to the Marshall. The paper detailed Romeo Blue’s crushing and unexpected defeat, and Newt had included a lengthy passage about the virtues of the Gage twins, hot-shot pilots who gleefully embraced stardom. Hermann had elided this passage, as their celebrity status had made no difference to the kaiju which had pounded Romeo Blue into the ground in a way no one had ever seen before. 

But Newt defended its inclusion: “Jaeger tactics have as much to do with the pilots inside them as they do with the weapons and shielding they’re equipped with.” 

“Which is why I left the subsequent paragraph about actual, legitimate tactics in. But all this babbling about their ‘boldness and charisma’ is superfluous.” 

“How can you be so cold, man? You knew the Gage twins, didn’t you?” 

“I knew all the Mark One pilots. They were training at the Academy while I was overseeing the implementation of my operating system in the first Jaegers. Had I developed an emotional attachment to the Gages then, it would not have saved them in Seattle, and feeling sorry for their deaths now will not spontaneously produce innovations in Jaeger technology to match the new kaiju strategies. What _will_ produce those innovations is more accurate collection of telemetry around the Breach, and further insight into the molecular configuration of the kaiju, upon which we can build improved weapons systems.” 

“Ice. Cold,” was all Newt said in reply. 

“A meaningless designation. You declared me ‘ice cold’ two months ago when I refused to let you title a report _Time and Relative Dimension in the Anteverse_.” 

At that moment, Newt did not regret anything that had happened between himself and Hermann in recent weeks, but he did feel like an idiot for having harbored a secret hope that their new closeness would soften some of the rough edges when it came to their divergent attitudes about the war. In that respect, he was sorely disappointed, on almost an hourly basis. 

In the lab, Hermann continued to go about his work with all the emotional depth and breadth of a microprocessor. No matter how many times Newt sucked him off or rode his cock, no matter how many erogenous zones Newt found on him, Hermann still got up every day and put on an old-man sweater over a shirt that he had buttoned all the way up and tucked into too-short, too-wide trousers. He was still cranky and stuck-up, and he berated Newt viciously, insulted his intelligence off-handedly, and condescended to him sharply, whether they were alone or in the presence of others. Nothing he did outside of bed indicated that he now alotted a significant portion of time spent _in_ that bed to making passionate, grunting love to his research partner. 

To be fair, Newt hadn’t changed, either. He didn’t “calm down” just because he was getting laid. He didn’t lose interest in manga and monster movies just because a grown-up activity had come his way. They both remained two awkward nerds with no fine motor skills who sometimes accidentally elbowed each other in the face when they made out (and one time deliberately). Each of them still liked to think of himself as the more socially adept of the two, and took it upon himself to “coach” the other, which their colleagues always found hilarious, because no matter what, they both still ended up sounding like spotty teenagers in a basement, twenty-sided dice clenched in their fists as they argued about which was the best spell to kill a troll.

 

 

**4.**

 

 _AUTHOR’S NOTE ON THIS CHAPTER: Nuclear semiotics is a field of study which seeks to determine how to effectively communicate to the next 30,000 generations of Earth’s inhabitants that the nuclear waste we have stored in places like Yucca Mountain are extremely dangerous and must be left alone. Looking back a few hundred years, even our own language and script becomes nearly incomprehensible, and some languages that are a thousand or more years old are unintelligible to any living human. Nuclear semioticians are trying to find a way to make the dangers of nuclear waste storage sites comprehensible to whoever might stumble upon them in ten thousand or more years._

 

Newt was on Hermann’s side of the lab. Hermann had reluctantly allowed this, so that Newt could use the mass spectrometer. Meanwhile, Hermann himself was up on his ladder, fiddling with equations based on new kaiju telemetry which he hoped would ultimately clarify the recent changes in the capacity of the Breach and allow him to revise his most recent report. 

As Newt scribbled notes about the molecular configuration of the connective tissue under the spectrometer, he said placidly, “Hermann, have you ever considered a career in nuclear semiotics? I mean, you know, after this is all over.” 

The question puzzled Hermann. He thought on it for a moment, and finally replied, “Nuclear semiotics is for linguists and anthropologists, not mathematicians. Why would you think I was cut out for such a thing?” 

“It’s just you’ve done such a good job on yourself. Your clothes look like you had them tailored specifically to fit you terribly, your haircut says _I have neither the means nor the motivation to look attractive to anyone, ever_ , your face looks like you’ve constantly got a mouthful of nasty-tasting medicine, and when you talk, people don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Everything about you makes people see you as an obnoxious pariah, but the truth is, underneath all that? You are a sex bomb. People walk right by you every day and have no idea how blazing hot you actually are. You’re just, like, a genius at creating repellent messages. That’s what made me think of nuclear semiotics.” 

“Your argument is flawed on a number of levels,” Hermann said. “First of all, the dangers inherent in approaching terminal nuclear storage are objective and inarguable, whereas the status of…of ‘sex bomb’ is entirely in the eye of the beholder.Two wholly different approaches to communication are at work. Second, my message was apparently not effective enough to repel _you_ for longer than two years, so my talents are clearly not foolproof.” 

Newt was not deceived by Hermann’s denial of being a sex bomb, though Hermann would have said that he was suffering from a cognitive bias: when something is at last revealed to you, it seems obvious, and you can’t imagine why everyone around you can’t deduce what you yourself had to be explicitly shown. For instance, that beneath those ill-fitting trousers, Hermann had a beautiful uncut cock and a glorious untrimmed bush. Newt looked up from his notes just then, and stared into the middle distance, picturing Hermann in the shower, washing himself in a no-frills manner, lathering up his pubic hair. He thought about the way the curls and cowlicks would look, all soapy and clinging to his skin. Did Hermann ever end up jerking off when he washed? Maybe not. Maybe he was all business, even in the shower. That was _hot_. But then later, Hermann would be in Newt so deep that he could feel that dark thatch of hair tickling him around his hole. 

Suddenly Newt broke the silence in the lab once more by shouting, “Ugh, just why the hell do you have to be so sexy, dude? You make me want to tear my own face off!” 

Hermann glanced down at Newt from his ladder with a look of mixed disdain and bafflement, and then returned to his work. 

Despite his insistence that Hermann was almost unbearably sexy, Newt definitely wanted Hermann to continue dressing dumpy – he didn’t want anyone else to know about his secret physical attractiveness, lest they be tempted to move in on his territory…

 

 

**5.**

 

Newt had a cup of coffee in each hand. (They were both for him; Hermann wouldn’t drink the vile “coffee” that Newt brewed.) He was gearing up for an all-nighter, working though a new and still nebulous theory he had about what had gone wrong during the attack on Seattle. But upon entering the lab, he was taken aback by the sight of Augusto, the Operations Manager Of The Department Of Something-Or-Other Newt Didn’t Care, standing alarmingly close to Hermann and saying something to him in a low tone. 

“Hey hey hey, leave room for the Holy Spirit, you two!” Newt snapped. He insinuated himself between the two of them, bumping his chest against Augusto and driving him back and away from Hermann. 

Hermann jumped when he saw the sloshing cups of steaming coffee in Newt’s outstretched arms. He held a greeting card in one hand and a pen in the other, and when Newt got out of the way again, he handed them back to Augusto, who took them as he smiled at Newt. “Hello, Doctor Geiszler. I was just bringing round this card for you to sign. It’s for Hardwick, you know, his foot was crushed by a forklift yesterday?” 

Newt snatched the card out of Augusto’s hand and read the contents. Everything seemed on the up-and-up, what with the _Get Well Soon_ on the front, and the numerous signatures and best wishes scattered about. Newt added his own meaningless platitude to it, not wanting to take his eyes off Augusto. He closed the card and shoved it back, poking Augusto in the chest with the corner of it. “You better watch who you sweet-talk around here,” Newt said ominously, “or you’ll be the one getting one of these cards, _capisce?_ ” 

Augusto looked at Newt, then at Hermann, then back at Newt, seeming to grasp what was being implied but finding it laughable. Doctor Geiszler thought that he was…ah, but it was too funny. “No worries, friend,” he said with a laugh. “In the future, I shall try very hard to contain myself when I’m in the presence of your _pololo_.” He held the card over his heart and bowed his head, taking two backward steps before turning and striding out of the room. 

“The hell was his problem,” Newt said. He had a death grip on Hermann’s elbow, though he wasn’t quite aware of it. 

“Are you completely insane,” Hermann growled at him. 

“Um, this has nothing to do with my mental health? It’s about some Don Juan trying to snatch you up.” 

“He was just telling me about Hardwick’s condition.” 

“Does _he_ have a condition where he has to be _thisclose_ to you in order to communicate effectively?” 

“He’s from Chile. Have you never met someone from Latin America before? They don’t have the same idea about what constitutes ‘personal space.’” 

“Uh, okay, but if he was any closer he would have been _in_ you.” 

“You are exaggerating. What are you working yourself into a frenzy about? Nothing, that’s what.” 

Newt stepped back to gesture at Hermann from head to toe. “I can’t leave you alone for five minutes to get coffee without some jerk trying to claim this nation for Spain, that’s what I’m in a frenzy about!” 

“First, I find the notion that he is interested in me at all highly dubious. Second, do you actually believe that, had you not come in at just that moment, I would have allowed him to seduce me right there and then?” 

Newt stomped his feet. Actually stomped his feet, because he couldn’t think of a grown-up response. “Well, I don’t know, dude! I don’t know what you’re capable of!” 

“Newton.” Hermann sighed, and came closer, far closer than Augusto had been, close enough that he could whisper to Newt, because the words were so embarrassing. “I was a virgin when I met you. I didn’t make it into my thirties in that condition by being sexually aggressive, nor by being irresistibly attractive to everyone who crossed my path.” 

“That’s the problem,” Newt whined. “I didn’t feel like I had a reason to be jealous before we started doing stuff, but now that I’ve unleashed all your pent-up sexual potential, I don’t know whether I’ll be able to keep it all, you know, harnessed and under control.” 

Hermann stared at Newt, then slowly squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I think it’s time for dinner. If you’re going to be up all night working you shouldn’t do it with nothing but the ungodly concoction that you think of as coffee in your stomach.”

 

*****

 

There were always a few diners in the mess hall, regardless of the hour. But at nine-thirty, it wasn’t too crowded, so Newt and Hermann had no difficulty claiming a table for themselves. Newt put his hand on Hermann’s shoulder, encouraging him to seat himself on the bench, while Newt went off to procure meals for them. 

“I’m perfectly capable of getting my own tray,” Hermann protested. 

“Yes, everyone knows you’re perfectly capable! Don’t be stubborn. I’m just trying to do something nice for you!” 

It wasn’t long before their bickering attracted the attention of the other diners; some of them, the ones who had seen Newt and Hermann fight before during one of their rare excursions outside the lab, smirked and elbowed each other. Others, who were new or had not witnessed the scientists’ antics, stared in wonder. 

“Are you afraid,” Hermann said, “that if I encounter another human being while I’m getting my meal, that I will flirt with them? Does it scare you to think that I might be so taken with the way that a man in a hairnet scoops mashed potatoes onto my tray with an ice cream scoop, that I will abandon you and run off with him?” 

“Maybe, yeah!” Newt shouted back. “I don’t know everything about you! I don’t know how you feel about hairnets!” 

Ultimately, Hermann let Newt storm off, and when he returned he had two trays, each with a slice of meatloaf. Newt placed one, piled high with additional veggies and a carton of skim milk, in front of Hermann, then set the other, with two squares of spice cake and a carton of chocolate milk, down to the right of it. He straddled the bench when he sat down, so that he was directly facing Hermann, and could place his left hand on the small of Hermann’s back while he ate with his right. They ate in silence, to the dismay of their fellow diners, who were expecting more of a show. Occasionally Newt leaned a fraction closer to Hermann and then had a look around the room, as if scoping out potential competition. When they finished, Newt took care of both their trays, and Hermann did not protest.

 

*****

 

Having entirely forgotten his plan to immerse himself in research through the night, Newt gently (but not subtly) steered them both back to Hermann’s room. The moment they were inside and the door was closed, Newt grabbed Hermann’s jacket by the lapels and yanked it off him, tossing it onto a nearby chair. “The hook is right there,” Hermann sighed. Newt ignored him, herding him over to the bed and sitting him down. He got down on his knees. Sitting made the cuff of Hermann’s trousers ride up even higher, and his ankles, in their argyle socks, were clearly visible. Newt clasped the left one, feeling the sharp bones and odd angles, musing that they were a lot like the rest of Hermann, actually. He continued to grip the ankle while he untied Hermann’s left shoe and sock, then did the same for the right. Hermann gasped a little at the force of Newt’s grasp. 

Next, Newt came up, stood astride Hermann’s thighs, and ordered him to lift his arms. Hermann did so, and Newt clutched his sweater-vest at the waist and yanked it over his head. 

It was not like Newt to be so forceful. Pushy, yes, but not like this. For one thing, he usually let Hermann remove his own clothing, because Hermann didn’t like it ending up scattered all over the floor. “Why are you behaving this way?” Hermann asked. 

Newt fumbled and tugged at the buttons of Hermann’s shirt, saying, “I’m asserting my manly dominance, dude. It’s a manly thing, that manly men need to do.” 

Hermann sighed. “You’re still fixated on Augusto’s visit to the lab – which, by the way, have I mentioned, was perfectly innocent.” 

“You might be so lacking in awareness that you thought it was innocent, but I assure you he was putting the moves on you. And even if I am wrong? That is what I _perceived_ , and perception is nine-tenths of the law.” 

“ _Possession_ is nine-tenths of the law,” Hermann said. 

“You think I’m being too possessive?” 

“Not at all, darling.” Hermann deadpanned, and he allowed Newt to push him down onto the mattress, so that his trousers and boxers could be tugged off and away. 

“Okay, uhh…” Newt surveyed the narrow bed, perfectly made, only recently disheveled by his undressing Hermann, and topped with Hermann’s body pillow, which allowed him to sleep on his side. “Get up for a minute.” Hermann dutifully rose, and Newt dragged the pillow over to the near side of the bed. “Lie back down, on your side,” he ordered. 

Herman laid himself back down, alongside the pillow. Newt took Hermann’s right leg – gently – and bent it, so that his knee rested on the pillow, while his left leg remained outstretched. He paused for a moment to consider that Hermann now rather looked like that famous photograph of John Lennon clinging to Yoko Ono. He thought about mentioning it, maybe making a joke about naming the pillow, but even Newt knew when to keep his mouth shut sometimes. Yoko Ono jokes were so _tired_. 

Newt all but tore his own clothes off, seemingly annoyed to discover that he was even still wearing them. Hermann watched, not particularly titillated at the sight, as it was happening with lightning speed and now there were even more clothes all over the floor, and he knew it would be left up to him to tidy them up later. Newt climbed over Hermann and into the bed, planting one knee on either side of Hermann’s left thigh. Then he had to immediately get up again, because he’d forgotten something. His frustrated, naked march over to the desk made Hermann giggle. “Shut up,” Newt said, and Hermann did, when Newt fished a bottle out of his jacket pocket. He recognized it as surgical lubricant. 

“I don’t think you should do _that_ to me for the first time if you’re angry at me.” 

“I’m not angry at you, dude.” Newt tossed the bottle onto the mattress and got back into bed, resuming his former stance, tucking his right knee between Hermann’s thigh and the pillow, then dropping his left knee and sitting back on his heels (and a bit on Hermann’s good leg) to admire the view. “I’m gonna show you a really good time, I promise. Like, I’ll…I’m totally gonna…” 

“Are you going to fuck me so hard and so well that I won’t be able to remember that there is anyone else in this word besides you?” Hermann offered. “Will it be so incredible as to guarantee that I’ll never be tempted away, that I’ll become your adoring sex slave forever?” 

“Uh, yeah, actually. In fact, that was going to be the basis of all my dirty talk. Now I have to think of some other stuff.” 

“Well, carry on, then. In your own time, that’s fine.” Hermann could argue with Newt about their disparate approaches to ending the war for years to come, but he’d already decided that he just could not be bothered to try any more to rid Newt of his illusions about facing dangerous sexual competition for his mate. So long as he did what he was about to do nicely, as he promised, Hermann was ready for it to happen, particularly if it satisfied Newt to the point where he could shift his focus back from jealousy to his quixotic fascination with kaiju, an obsession which Hermann was more comfortable with, if nothing else for its familiarity. 

“Are you cold? I turned the heat up.” Newt said. Hermann shook his head. Newt leaned over him, covering Hermann with his own body, and stroked all down his side, and kissed his shoulder. Newt radiated an incredible amount of heat at all times, and if Hermann thought he was sufficiently warm before, Newt’s close proximity made him sigh cozily. Being this close, Newt could feel the tension in Hermann’s body and waited, warming him and giving him soft kisses, until his breathing slowed and he finally relaxed. (Newt remained tense; he was rarely not so.) Newt braced himself with his right hand, and let his left wander down, tickling over the small of Hermann’s back as he went, over the smooth curve of his rump, and then slowly into the warm, private place behind his balls. He felt the soft fuzz there, and with his ear pressed to Hermann’s ribcage he could hear the slightest vibration as Hermann whimpered. His fingers pressed until he found the little dent, the pucker. Hermann clenched, but that was alright, because just then Newt did as well. 

Newt sat up, and firmly grasped Hermann’s arse cheek and squeezed it, parted it, so that he could see for the first time: Hermann’s sweet, pink little hole, never touched before. Newt hadn’t even gotten around yet to fingering him when he gave him a blowjob. But at the moment, the idea of doing this to Hermann, of claiming him this way, was far too appealing to Newt to be delayed any longer. 

He picked up the bottle and squeezed too much lube onto his fingers. He’d thought he had sufficient theoretical knowledge of how this worked, based on it being done to him, but now that he was where he was, he found himself clumsy and hesitant. When he touched the tip of his finger to Hermann’s entrance, and felt it squeeze shut, he didn’t know whether that meant he should back off or push harder. “It’s cold,” Hermann said tightly. Newt waited until the lube had warmed under his touch, then gave a push, which turned out to be more forceful than was necessary; his finger suddenly slid all the way up Hermann to the third knuckle. 

“Mother of God,” Hermann shouted, and clutched the pillow. 

“Sorry! Sorry dude!” The passage was responsive and active, squeezing around Newt’s finger, trying to pull it still deeper. “Oh, wow, I can feel your pulse up here,” Newt whispered. “It’s really powerful, it’s like _wham wham wham_. That’s so cool!” Hermann shifted slightly, whimpering in response because he couldn’t come up with a verbal way to respond. 

_Okay, okay, now the prostate, where the hell is it._ Newt couldn’t just crook his finger; he was approaching from an awkward angle. He had a good thorough feel around, and Hermann was making so many odd noises, he wasn’t sure whether he was hitting the right spot. But then, when he felt something rounded and slightly firm beneath his fingertip, Hermann cried out as his whole body convulsed, and then Newt was fairly certain about the location. But he still felt that he was struggling to reach it with his index finger. He gently removed it, then replaced it with a slick middle finger, and the extra fraction of an inch was enough to hit it more squarely. 

It was great fun. Hermann was making all sorts of amazing noises, far more entertaining and hot than the ones he made when Newt was sucking him off. His whole body was twitching and jerking with pleasure, his toes were curling. Hermann didn’t talk much in bed, but he was getting practiced at shivering, and wordless shouts. This was what Newt wanted; a Hermann who unable to think of anything except the feelings that Newt was overwhelming him with. Feelings that he wouldn’t want to do without, ever again, and which he trusted only Newt to provide him with. Yes. 

Newt slid his finger out with great care, then took up the bottle again and squeezed lube directly onto his cock. He smeared it around with one hand while he spread his knees, lowering himself further so he could tuck his cock right into that slick, blood-hot place. When Hermann felt the press of the blunt tip, he clenched again, but Newt said, “You’re ready for this, come on, you’re ready. Push back against me.” Hermann tilted his pelvis and felt an ache down his thigh, but Newt worked the head of his cock inside, and then another inch, and then they relaxed, and Newt let Hermann resituate himself until he was comfortable once more. 

Newt spread Hermann’s cheeks again, looking at the lube that ringed the place where they were joined, and reassured himself that Hermann was sufficiently slick. “Okay, it’s all going in now, ready?” And before Hermann could answer, Newt leaned in and pushed until his pubic bone was pressed firmly against the swell of Hermann’s rump. 

“You good, dude?” Newt gasped. He didn’t wait for Hermann’s response before he pulled out and shoved in again. 

“Slowly!” Hermann shouted. “For Christ’s sake!” He didn’t see Newt’s conciliatory nod, but the next few thrusts were slow and steady, and enjoyable for the both of them. Moving this slowly, Newt could feel Hermann squeezing and pulsing lusciously around him. 

“You like it better like that?” Newt groaned. “You like to feel every inch as it goes in?” 

A breathy “ _Ah_ ,” was the entirety of Hermann’s reply. He reached down because he thought he wanted to touch himself, but as soon as his hand was stroking his prick, it felt too intense, and instead he just cupped the slippery glans, erratically working his foreskin back and forth with the hollow of his palm. 

“I want you to like it,” Newt cried out, “but I don’t want anyone to _know_ you like it. I want it to be our secret that you like to get fucked.” 

“It will reduce the likelihood that anyone will find out how much I like it,” Hermann said, his teeth gritted, “if you didn’t shout about it, so that any random passerby could clearly hear you!” 

Oh God, now _this_ was ecstasy. Hermann being so sweet and soft and pink on the inside, and still being deliciously cross with him. Just as when Newt had been in the lab, fantasizing about Hermann wet and naked, now that they were fucking, he pictured Hermann fully dressed, glasses on, chalk in hand, untouched and isolated and irascible. Between the image in his head and the heaving, perspiring, debauched sight before him, Newt was sure his heart would burst. “I’m so close,” he cried. “Are you close? I need you to be close right now.” 

Hermann felt that he needed something more, just a slight adjustment, to get there, but he didn’t want to try tipping his pelvis again. He ordered Newt to the right a little bit, then down, and Newt continued thrusting, trying to find the proper angle. The whole thing was so tantalizing – it was well inside, but wasn’t quite touching the right spot, but then suddenly Newt leaned to the left and then it _was_. Hermann gasped, “Ohhh, yes, that’s…that’s exactly where that needs to be now. Yes. _Oh._ ” 

Newt watched Hermann’s hand, now working frantically between his thighs, underneath his raised right leg, keeping the action just out of Newt’s line of vision. He couldn’t even see Hermann’s cock, but he was thinking about it, what it looked like. “I can’t hold it anymore,” he shouted, “I gotta fucking unload in you right now. Oh, _shit_.” White light engulfed his vision, his whole body wracked with electric surges of hard, sharp bliss, and he pounded Hermann just a few more times before he stilled, gushing and filling him up. Hermann took it extremely well, the impact of Newt’s prick against his prostate painfully pleasurable as he spilled over his fist. He grunted like he was the one doing the fucking, while Newt moaned like he was the one being fucked. 

“ _Unhhh,_ shit did you come?” Newt said, feeling the last little spurt as it slipped out of the tip of his cock. “Did you come?” 

“Yes,” Hermann rasped. 

“Okay. Okay good. Yeah.” He pulled out too fast, and Hermann yelped. “Sorry!” Newt said, still far louder than was necessary. 

Hermann tried to roll onto his back, but Newt held him still a moment longer. “Hold on, let me just check you out. Did I hurt you?” Newt pressed his thumb to the inside of Hermann’s right buttock, spreading it once more. “No, no, you look good. Oh, you look so good right now, damn.” Without even thinking of resisting the urge, he touched Hermann’s red, wet rim with his fingers. “Oh,” he gasped, as he easily slipped the tip of one finger inside. 

“Can you not!” Hermann snapped. “I’m very sensitive there just now.” 

Newt retreated, but as he did so, Hermann clenched, and a trickle of Newt’s come seeped out. Newt’s gut lurched at the sight. “I want to get hard again right now,” he said without shame, “so I can do my own sloppy seconds in you.” 

“The hell you will,” Hermann said. 

“Please.” He draped himself over Hermann’s body again, dropping sweet kisses on his damp, hot flesh. “Please please please.” 

Hermann found himself growing sated and drowsy, not inclined to protest. And anyway, Newt was still speaking in the heat of passion. Within moments he would surely calm down, and be too satisfied and sleepy himself to carry out such an act. 

But the minutes wore on, and Newt continued pressing down on Hermann, stroking him, snaking his hand down between Hermann’s legs, where his own hand still idly cupped his spent, damp cock. These weren’t lazy, afterglow-type touches, they were seduction touches, meant to arouse, and they felt odd being administered at this point. Then Hermann felt something stiff pressing into his hip, and he sighed with resignation. 

“I’ve never been able to stop you from doing anything, especially if it’s stupid and you know I’ll hate you for it,” Hermann said. “At least do me the courtesy of being quick and not too rough about it.” 

“Don’t sweat it, dude. I’ll be in and out, you won’t even notice I’m in there.” Newt pushed himself up, and Hermann heard the low squelch of more lube being applied before feeling a nudge against his rim. Newt worked his cock all around, sliding it in the come that had leaked out, before shoving it in. This time Newt was watching, looking at Hermann’s red, raw, used hole as it gave easily and accepted him again. 

He was more frantic this time, desperate, working Hermann in short, hard thrusts. He exhibited absolutely no finesse, though he was at least managing not to inflict any pain. Hermann squeezed his muscles, tried to make it tighter for Newt so he would come faster, but Newt said, “No, relax, relax it. I’m gonna think of this. When we’re in the lab, and you’re calling me names, I’m gonna think about fucking you all loose and sloppy like this. You’re gonna regret that you ever let me do this to you— _ah_ —” 

“I was regretting it even _before_ I let you,” Hermann grumbled, but Newt didn’t hear him over his own fraught, orgasmic bellowing. He pushed himself more deeply into Hermann’s body, feeling how his ejaculate came more reluctantly this time, just one weak pulse and a vague ache in his balls. He was completely finished now, for real, his quadriceps throbbing, his throat hoarse, and his cock sore from the additional, enforced paces it had been put through. 

“Oh, man, that was awesome,” Newt said, flopping over alongside Hermann. “I’m sorry about the language, by the way,” 

Hermann reached back for Newt’s arm, draped it over himself, encouraged Newt to make one last physical effort and snuggle up tightly behind him. “It’s alright,” Hermann sighed, “you were just needing to be manly, or at least that is my understanding of the situation.” 

“I’m gonna blow you in the shower, okay? When we get up. In a minute.” 

“There’s no need. I mean, for the shower, yes, but not…” 

Newt kissed the damp nape of Hermann’s neck. “But I came twice and you only came once,” he said tenderly. 

“I said it’s not necessary. Now be quiet.” 

“I offer to give the man a blowjob in the shower, and he shuts me down,” Newt lamented to the walls. 

Hermann turned his head to address Newt more directly. “Because you’re pretending that you are concerned about me, but really you are making it all about you, as usual.” 

Newt uttered a guilty groan, and snuggled closer by way of apology. Hermann reached back to pat Newt’s thigh with a sticky hand. “It’s alright,” he said. “I don’t mind when you make things all about you. I always seem to end up getting some residual joy out of it, don’t I? Isn’t that funny.”


End file.
